Forced Betrayal
by ayameru
Summary: The Shou Shimaron King had found a new toy to play with: The Great Sage of ShinMakoku, Murata Ken. Bondage, Torture, mature?
1. Chapter 1

Okay- I'm insane. 8] I'm moving this back here- figured there's nothing really to lose. ^^;

Sorry about all the trouble!

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"We can't just leave Murata here!" The helpless king thrashed wildly at the bind of his muscular bodyguard whose job was to keep him from running away.

Another day in the enemy's land trying to find a way to peace, and they were again about to be captured. But this time, there was no Conrad in the other side to fight for them if necessary. And everyone other than the maou was aware of the danger of being caught again. But the only one that was actually caught was Murata, the sage. The rest were binded by the mere fact that he was in a verge of having his head cut off.

"Whining isn't going to get you anywhere! Now leave!" Murata sighed, closing his eyes against the jolt of pain from the tight bind hastily applied to his wrist. Again, the party was separated while making a get-away. Yuuri and Yozak stood together, Yozak with his king in a semi-headlock to keep him from making a mad rush. Further down the dirt paved road laid Murata with a soldier straddled over his waist. Another soldier stood nearby, clutching a sword a few centimeters away from the captive's throat.

"Don't move! Drop your weapon!" The soldier with the sword screeched, jabbing at Murata's throat, the tip of the metal barely glazing the white skin. Eyes wide, the Daikenjya barely suppressed a gasp. Images flooded his mind of some time in the past, which he attempted to shake out without avail.

"Don't listen to him!" He shouted, trying to smile assumingly to his friend. "It won't do to get you caught again, Shibuya. We can't risk having you in danger again. Now, Yozak, GO!"

"Shut up!" The soldier atop him jammed down his knee into Murata back, forcing a groan out of the Daikenjya-reincarnation.

"Murata! Murata! Don't make me do this! You know I can't do this! Yozak, for god damn sake, let me down!" Yuuri kicked harder, but Yozak seemed not to even have felt it. The size difference was evident, as was the difference in power. The thin, frail demon king could not possibly win at a muscle match with the broad-shouldered man.

"Sorry, bo-chan." Yozak grunted. "Right now, I've got to do what's right. We've followed your lead before, but it just doesn't work out well, you know? It always just ends up us all being caught. And right now, that's not such a good idea. They're coming close. Now come on…" With a heave, he threw his king onto his shoulder, making it so that he was able to start running whenever necessary.

"Wait! Stop! I said stop!" The soldier shouted, obviously not expecting this change in situation. They were always told that there was no way the foolish king made an escape when a hostage was taken.

At the same time, Yuuri was still struggling atop of his own soldier that was refusing to follow his orders.

"You can't even listen to your own king?" He hissed, beating down on the red head soldier. "Let go! I said let go!"

"Do you not care what happens to him?" The soldier screeched, glazing his sword across Murata's shoulder blade, slitting open the boy's brown shirt, exposing white skin that began to leak out blood from the thin gash. Murata began squirming under the bind, but the guard on top of him had his hands behind his back secure under his knees.

"Murata!" Yuuri screeched, beating down on the red head. But it was of no use. Yozak had already leaped into the air, swiftly maneuvering through the woods atop trees, carrying his king with him.

"This is going to be a little rough, but you have to excuse me. I don't usually have extra loads on my back."

Those left behind looked on open-mouthed. For the first time, the king had left without taking back a hostage. The king himself seemed bothered enough, but his servant was not about to risk his master's life again.

Only Murata smiled in an awkward way, not sure whether he should be proud of his soldier's quick thinking, or depressed for being left behind with the Shou Shimaron soldiers. But it did not matter what happened to him. He had no great powers as Shibuya did. Nor was he of any use except for with his knowledge. The kingdom would not miss him as it would miss Yuuri. After all, most of the nation did not even know about the reincarnated self of the Daikenjya.

Murata was violently picked up by one of the soldiers and thrown into a wagon. Another soldier came in behind him, and shut the door, signaling to the driver from the window to go. Glaring at Murata, the soldier crossed his arms, bouncing in rhythm with the jolts of the ride.

The other soldier rode his horse alongside the cart.

The rocky ride to hell had just begun for the captured teen.

Soon enough, or perhaps too soon, the wagon made an abrupt stop, and the soldier on horseback dismounted, pulling the two horses into the stable area while the other dragged out his prisoner into an impressive castle.

Even in his horrid situation, Murata marveled at the unique structure that allowed for such a magnificent castle that was in front of him. It was far greater and sophisticated than the castle he usually found himself to be, and much more elegant.

He found himself being dragged down a fleet of stairs. After a few flights, light barely filtering through from crude windows signaling the end of the actual castle. There were torches lighting the way in intervals, but hardly enough to light the way comfortably.

Couple doors down, the Soldier kicked open a wooden door and shoved Murata in.

"You useless piece of crap!" He spat as he threw his prisoner into the stone ground, slamming the heavy door shut. "Thanks to you, the Demon King got away, and you can pay for it. At least, if we have you, maybe they will come sooner or later to get you. If, they even care to risk that."

Murata Ken groaned remorsefully, not yet fully recovered from the stab in the shoulder or the recent drop onto solid ground. Thanks to the ordeal, his glasses were shattered, and shards of glass dug into his face, barely missing his eyes.

"Agh… Now look at what you did…" The soldier growled, pulling up the boy by the hair, poking at his face to let the pieces fall out. Shaking his head as if he actually cared, the soldier tied his hostage onto a chain link dangling from one of the walls. "Don't move," he warned menacingly as he stepped around the debris and out of the dungeon room. As the clicks of the soldier's heels became faint, Murata breathed out, glad that at least for a moment, he was given peace to think things over.

He knew, from his past life that being imprisoned, especially by a soldier, never led to anything desirable. The last time, a few generations back, he was taken as a prisoner of war in World War II, and the torture the man suffered still gave Murata chills.

"Don't think about it! Don't remember anything. Don't think about anything… It'll be alright." He muttered to himself, finally remembering the pulsing pain in his shoulder blade. The bleeding seemed to have stopped, but from the way the scar prickled every time he moved, the wound was to crack open anytime now. "He'll come for me…." Inwardly, he wondered, _who's "he"?_

Murata glanced around halfheartedly around him, his vision blurred from the destruction of his glasses. He did not have his contacts on, thus having black eyes which no one seemed to have noticed as of yet.

The door creaked open once again, and from the shuffling of the feet, there seemed to be more than one back. He strained his eyes to try and see, but without avail. His eyes were quite useless without his glasses. He suddenly wished his friend was here to see for him, but if he were, he would hardly be sitting here with him. They would be in the gallows by now. In that sense, he was lucky. If being imprisoned in an unknown military point could be called lucky. The soldiers seemed to think of him as just some random Mazoku that the demon king had taken a liking to, and would come to rescue.

Even though he did tell him to leave him, Murata secretly hoped he would come back to get him. Which he knew his friend would do. No matter what the price. Which would be a reason for his downfall if anything. He smiled bitterly at his own selfishness.

"Over here… Clean this up, will ya? The kid just went ahead to break his glasses and now it's all over the place. Oh, him? Ya... I picked him up on the way back…"

Only vaguely listening to the conversations taking place before him, the teenager tugged a little at the chain that was holding him upright, kneeling on the hard ground. His legs were falling asleep, and it was painful to sit there in such a position.

Again the door opened, this time slowly and silently. A new figure entered, walking delicately towards the small crowed. Instantly, the soldiers righted their positions, standing erect. "Your highness… Why are you down in such a disgusting place? This is not fit for such a noble one as you, Saralegi Heika…" The first soldier, blushing, spoke up.

And indeed, the room was hardly a place for a king of a country to be. The walls were not clean, to say the least, and the ground was dark in places where blood had dried and soaked into the wood.

"Who is this gentleman here?" The king asked, his cool eyes looking down at the dazed boy who was still trying to see something despite the fact that he couldn't see anything. His small tinted glasses made his eye color undetectable, but if you weren't nearsighted, you could see a smile forming at his lips.

As if he only meant good for the world.

"He is the prisoner of the damned Mazoku king, your majesty," the soldier replied, not moving a muscle. "We failed to capture the king, so we brought him back instead. We did not count on the fact that he would run away and leave a hostage behind…"

"I see…" Saralegi stepped up, his movement swaying the robe behind him. "May I see him alone, please?" He fluttered his hand to show them that they were not welcome in the room anymore. The soldiers ran away hurriedly.

"Well, that solved that problem, did it not?" Saralegi smiled, walking closer to the captured boy. "My, your clothing, hair and eyes. They are beautiful shades of black. I have always thought that black was such a horrid color until I met your friend. I am sure you know Yuuri? He is your king, is he not? I have always thought that those clad in black were few in this world, but I have been seeing quite a few these days."

He ran his manicured hands along Murata's cheeks, raising his head so that their eyes met. Murata, finally able to see his captor's face, glared back fiercely.

"And who might you be?" spat the black haired boy, squinting again to see the blond boy's face closely. His golden eyes looked back without a hint of annoyance, still smiling.

"I am Saralegi, the king of Shou Shimaron, the Great Sage of Shin Makoku," Saralegi crooned, his cold hand still caressing the boy's face. "What beautiful face you have."

"Don't touch me," Ken growled, trying to move away from the delicate fingers. He could not move. Every movement brought new pain to his shoulder and body and the more he struggled, the less he was able to move.

"Are you hurt?" Saralegi asked, peering into the other boy's pained face. "What is wrong?" He touched lightly on Murata's wound, causing the other boy to shudder in pain. The cold touch sent a shiver down his spine. "Should I take the chains off?"

He tapped at the chain connecting his handcuffs to the wall. Having his hands tied behind his back and chained to the wall was not comfortable, and Saralegi knew it.

His warm expressions were replaced with those of colder ones. He was still smiling, but not affectionately. He was smiling because he saw the pain in Murata's eyes.

Saralegi tenderly walked over to a corner and opened a box. Compared to the rest of the room the box seemed new and well kept. He brought it over and placed it in front of the boy so that he could see the box without being bothered with his poor eyesight.

He stroked lovingly at the lid, and opened them.

He brought out a chain with something on the end, which to Murata's disdain, seemed to be a leather collar. "Isn't it beautiful?" Saralegi asked, holding the gleaming chain up to Ken's face. "And see this? It's made of the finest leather."

With a swift motion, he strapped the collar onto Murata's throat and locked the ends up with a bolt. He smiled lovingly. "And you look beautiful as well," he remarked. He held up the chain and placed it besides him, taking out yet another object from the box.

He unhooked the handcuff from the chain, and twirled the key in his hand.

"Shall I take your handcuffs off?" He asked, taking pleasure in Murata's attempt to mask his desperation.

He slowly unchained the boy, releasing him from his cuffs. Murata shuddered, his hands pulsating with blood that was denied to them earlier. He was unaware of what the king was doing, and quite frankly, he couldn't have cared less. He swung his arms in front of him; dropping to his hands and knees, sweat pouring down. Though the situation had not changed, his body was thankful for the release and expressed its relief.

He rubbed at his wrists red from the rope, and began to lift his head when the realization hit that his movements were suppressed. The king of Shou Shimaron stood over him, a gentle yet cruel smile on his lips, his eyes dancing in pleasure. He had one foot on the chain that lead to Murata's throat, forcing him to stay down on his knees.

"I can't let you move freely you know. Who knows what you might be inclined to do?" He kneeled down onto the cool floor with one leg, and once again lifted the young man's face.

"Now… You know what I want, don't you, your highness?" He crooned, stroking the soft flesh of his captive's face. With his trimmed and manicured fingers, he slowly etched a line onto his cheek, leaving a welt to form.

"No, I don't. And even if I did, I wouldn't care to tell you," Murata spat, annoyed by the whole situation.

"My. You are very charming when you are angry," Saralegi smiled amiably. "What I want is to know is your Majesty's weak points. He was charming too, when angry."

"And you think I'm going to just tell you? There is no way you can force that out of me. Shibuya is very important to this world. He is going to be the one the world has been looking for. And there is nothing you can do about it, Saralegi," he sneered, glaring back up at the young king before him.

"Of course, when I am done with you, you might be inclined to speak," Saralegi replied, eagerness dancing in his golden eyes. "You see, I have very weak eyes. But that is only in the light. As soon as the lights are gone, I can see better than anyone else. And that includes your face in pain, my dear."

"Shibuya was right. You are one sick person. You disgust the human race…" Murata's disgusted voice turned into a groan as a foot with a gracefully decorated shoe embedded itself in his stomach. He curled up clutching his stomach.

"I hardly think you are the one to talk, _your highness_," he spoke as he made an emphasis on the last part.


	2. Chapter 2

"You fail to understand that you are my prisoner," Saralegi murmured into Murata's ear before straightening up and walking toward the entrance.

He opened the door and whispered something to the guard standing outside, leaving Murata to curse his practically useless eyesight and the degrading collar upon his throat. The leather was irritating his skin, and he subconsciously found a new understanding for dogs that had to keep this on every day of their lives.

Soon, the soldier came back, balancing a pail of water and a crude chair. Murata was unable to see anything but blurred rims of the objects, but from the splashes of water made him uncomfortable. He hardly thought that it was to quench his thirst that was becoming unbearable. It had been hours since he had his last drink of water and the sheer thought of eating and drinking something was making his stomach churn.

Saralegi came back; his steps light as always, followed by the soldier that had taken Murata hostage. Saralegi silently pointed to the floor beside the black-haired boy to which the soldier lowered the bucket and the chair.

"You know, your highness, I have heard a lot about you and your king. It seems as though you two are in quite a circumstantial relationship," Saralegi spoke, settling himself next to the boy, trying to make the chair comfortable for himself, despite the fact that it was made of hard wood. Saralegi suddenly snapped his fingers, and the soldier automatically picked up the chain to Murata's throat. He raised the chain to pull the boy up from the floor, making him gag, but at the same time, pulling his head level to his king's gorgeous face. Had he not known any better, Murata would have thought that Saralegi was a divine being sent to the world. His hair shimmered in gold, as did his eyes. His beautiful dress mirrored the golden scheme. His pale face was painted with delicate features, and his carefully manicured nails were on long, slender fingers.

"I want you to tell me about this Shinou of yours. From what I gather, he is like a god in your country, is he not? But god doesn't speak to the people. Tell me, who is he? What is he to you?" Saralegi asked without a single change in tone; as though he were inviting a friend to start a conversation. As for the Great Sage, he was clawing at his throat to release himself from the choke. "You would know, wouldn't you, The Great Sage?"

Another soldier came in meekly, clutching another box. When seen closer, he was but a boy freckled and frail-looking. He was probably not much older than Murata, but certainly did not act as a boy his age might on Earth. His eyes were darting between Murata's contorted face and his master's, and he quickly placed the box by his King's foot and made a runaway out of the room.

After he listen to the rapid footsteps fade away, Saralegi turned back to his prize. "Well?" He asked amiably. "Are you going to tell me?"

By then, Murata had gotten to his feet, glaring down at the king, getting ready to choke him by his cuffs.

"As I've said before, Saralegi, I am not going to tell you anything. Especially something that you are going to be able to use against us or something that might hurt Shibuya," he growled, hands reaching out to grab the king's clothing.

Before they got anywhere close, his knees bucked out from under him, and he felt his choke resuming its job half way down. His knees slammed into the ground, but even through the rapid fall, his throat was still caught up much higher than his kneeling comfort zone. He gasped for breath, reaching up to his throat in order to take some of the pressure away. His knees throbbed form the impact that it had suffered again, and the jerk upon his throat was constricting his airways.

Saralegi looked down coolly at the boy who was about to go on another violent fit and looked up behind the thrashing boy. The soldier who had just struck a stiff leather stick stood behind Murata, one arm still holding his detainee by the chain.

"Do you think," Saralegi asked absentmindedly, "That it would be better to replace the chain?"

The soldier faltered for a moment, unknowing whether the king was talking to him or the boy. Murata was glaring up menacingly, or as menacingly as a choking teenager who has never been hit in his whole life could glare, at the soldier, his face turning red from lack of air.

He noticed the expectant gaze his master was throwing his way, and muttered incomprehensibly.

"I take that as a yes? Please do fetch the other one," the king ordered, watching as the soldier threw down the chain and stick and ran over to the boxes. Murata saw this as an opportunity, but his body was not responding the way he wanted it to. Instead of picking up and shaking the king as he would have liked to, he ended up crawling towards his enemy and raising a feeble arm in an attempt to grasp at a piece of clothing.

Murata cursed the forgiving life he had lead up to this point in his life. He always had food, clothing, baths, family and anything else given to him. Spending so much time on earth had made him softer and his demonic powers deteriorate, but it seemed as though those weren't the only things he had lost. He could no longer function through hunger or fatigue, and certainly not after both.

_Why?_ He cursed to himself. _How and when did I become this way? All I am, after all, is no one but a teenager. A kid that just so happens to know a little more about things, but nothing more. I can never help Shibuya or have the power to get him out of things._

He wanted to protect him, but still could not find a way. When he was the Daikenjya, he always seemed to know what he must do in order to help his master succeed. But what about now? The Shinou had kept his powers, perhaps even greater now than ever. But he? What could he do now?

He realized that, in plain terms, he was useless.

Now that he was caught, he was only a burden to his country and Yuuri. Perhaps it was better to just die here and have the information leak out to Shin Makoku so that Yuuri would not bother coming to look for him and endanger himself again.

Saralegi sneered and slapped Murata's upturned face away with such force that his frail body seemed incapable of. Ken was thrown backwards and fell to his side. The boy picked himself up shaking his head to try to rid himself of the ringing in his head.

The soldier returned and yanked the shaking boy towards him and slipped chain links over his head. With a quick motion, he unstrapped the boy's collar and threw it to the side. Having finished his task, the soldier meekly looked up at his master to whom he was probably three times the age. The king smiled and offered a "good job" as if to a dog that had just completed a "sit."

Murata noticed with horror that the collar upon his throat was not a collar at all, but chains slid through the end of one to apply force to whatever that blocked its way. In this case, Murata's throat: a choke chain.

Murata recalled seeing them used for obedience training in dogs that did not stop pulling with a normal collar. Also that it squeezed the dog's throat until it suffocated enough to jump back and beg for forgiveness at which time it released him of the bind. That was, if it was put on correctly. If not, even if the dog stopped pulling, the chain did not recoil and the dog remained choked. He hoped that it was correctly placed.

Was what Saralegi looking for was to get something out of him by humiliation? If so, he was wasting his time…

"How do you like being chained, Sage?" asked the King as he reclined back in his chair. "It fits you well. Look at you… It is quite beautiful, I assure you. The Great Sage who is held in highest respect whom the tops of the country, kneeling in front of the Shou Shiaron King... Does this mean that Shin Makoku has pledged its submission to our country?" he chuckled at his own sick sense of humor.

"Now, tell me…" Saralegi smiled, looking into Murata's black eyes. "Your country's secrets… or shall I just attack now and see what would happen? After all, we are now the strongest country in the world thanks to our alliance with my brother's nation. Even Dai Shimaron couldn't stop us now."

"Such reckless king…" Murata spat out finally when his initial shock of being chained wore off. "No wonder this country is deteriorating. At least our king, if nothing else, has compassion for the people and determination to make the world a better place."

"Strip him," Saralegi suddenly ordered. "Now!" He snapped at the servant who had faltered at the sudden change in tone of his master.

He hurriedly snatched up the boy from the ground and began to clumsily unbutton his school uniform. Alarmed, Murata snatched the front of his shirt from the soldier and backed up against the wall.

"What are you doing?" he stammered, feeling the cold stonewall behind him obscuring his route away from the advancing soldier.

"There is," the king replied. "Punishment for every act."

"Such nonsense coming from you!" Murata shot back as he slapped away the soldier's hand.

"Don't touch me," he warned.

The soldier pulled back momentarily, oppressed by the tone, but remembered his task and advanced towards the sage again.

"I might as well have fun since you are not going to be of any use to me anymore. Maybe soon, you will tell me what I wanted to know."

Murata shuddered, his mind wavering. The soldier finally having realized that his captive was chained picked up the chain and yanked hard on it.

The sage spluttered, breath caught in his throat as the choke chain dug deep into his skin, closing up his esophagus.

He found himself under the soldier, the man's body sitting upon his, forcing Murata's body to attempt to curl up in order to protect his back from being totally crushed by the weight.

He coughed up air as his stomach was oppressed from bearing the weight of the heavy man over him that was greedily tearing off Murata's school uniform. Clucking in irritation as his collared shirt showed under the black exterior, he put his callused finger upon Murata's chin in order to get at the top buttons.

Meanwhile, Saralegi watched with an amused smile, torched flames dancing in his eyes. His anger seemed to have given way to pleasure as he watched, elbow on his crossed legs, his captive being stripped.

Murata struggled even then against the bind as he became anxious. Cold air in the dungeon felt up on his newly exposed skin and he shivered.

His shirts were bunched up on his shoulders, and he tried to pull them back only to be held down by the gruff hands annoyed at being hindered with his mission.

Saralegi himself stood up then, and handed him individual handcuffs with chains to secure onto the floor and sat down again to watch.

Murata struggled against the new binds, but he was now unable to move even his arms that were sprayed out on either side of his body.

Content, the soldier smiled and began his way into the boy's black pants.

The Great Sage felt his conscience giving out as his reaction to the shame and emotional distress overwhelmed him.


	3. Chapter 3

Murata gave a groan and slowly opened his eyes. It was not dark; a few torches lit the stillroom. But at the same time, something was different. It took him a few moments to realize that _he was __able to see_. He did not feel his glasses on the bridge of his nose nor did he recall having his contacts on, but he could see. Very well. He could not recall any time in his life that he was able to see better.

He also noticed a throbbing pain somewhere in his lower body. He crooked his head to look down and saw his, or what used to be, his manhood laced up tightly with a crude ribbon of leather. He moaned softly as he tugged at his binds to see the limits of his movements. It didn't amount to much. He was sitting on the cold, brick, unyielding floor for so long (though he could not gauge on his own, for how long exactly) that his knees felt numb.

He licked his lips, his throat parched from thirst. He realized that he hadn't eaten or drank anything since the morning of his capture. He wondered how long it had been since then.

The great sage (he did not look so great the moment)'s throat was chained to the ceiling, as were his arms by chains that dug into his wrists, and he was kneeling on the cold stone ground, his legs sprawled out on two sides, secured by cuffs to the ground so that there was only a few chain-links' worth of space for him to move.

Suddenly, the door opened, revealing the young king and one of his guards. He was the same one, Murata realized, that had knocked him out earlier.

"You have awoken!" The king smiled in his mocking, elatedly. "I was wondering when you were going to. It was such a shame to have you knocked out for so long. My apologies, my dear friend. I did not think this one here would have caused so much trouble!" Saralegi chirped as he gave a swift nod at the clumsy guard, his tone not at all apologetic.

The king briskly walked up to the chained boy, and picked his face up with his long elegant fingers, his carefully manicured fingers glinting in the lights, lining up Murata's face with his.

"My, and don't you look lovely," he sighed. "I have always loved King Yuuri's beautiful black eyes and hair. And I have to admit; yours are quite spectacular as well."

He played around with the boy's hair, twirling a piece of an unruly strand.

"Don't touch me," Murata growled, twisting his head forcefully away from his captor's grip.

"My," Saralegi smiled in delight. "Your personality changed so much! It must be so hard putting on a masquerade for your ignorant friend. I doubt he knows the depths of your true intelligence and intentions, now does he?"

"I do not put on any masquerade, unlike you," Murata spat, glaring at Saralegi. "And don't talk about Shibuya like that. He isn't even in your league. He is the one who is going to save-"

The king grabbed the sage's face once more and slid his face right before it. His golden eyes shined dangerously, though his eerie smile never faded. "He is not going to save anyone, Great Sage. He will not get anywhere, and I will personally make sure of that. Why, he's such an ignorant child!" He laughed. "He can barely distinguish an enemy from a friend. He is too gullible and trusting to be a leader at all!"

"A leader," he added, his golden eyes glinting. "Must always be cautious of his surroundings."

"A change in the type of people ruling a country is a good thing," Murata retorted.

He tried again to move his face away, but the child king had more power in his grip than he expected.

"And, yet," the young king cooed. "You are mine now, Great Sage. Mine. And I plan on enjoying your company."

"Get your filthy hands off of me, you ugly bastard," Murata growled, having lost is usual cool. Having his best friend insulted was one of the things he greatly despised.

Saralegi let go of the boy's face which was clearly marked with red lines from where he had grabbed it. In one swift motion he slapped Murata's face, his face contorted in rage, though only for a moment. His smile was plastered again half a second later. When a small bit of blood from a tear in the victim's lip emerged, he laughed merrily.

"It's such a beautiful color, isn't it?" He murmured to the guard as he bent down and licked the blood off the boy's lip. Murata gasped in horror and Saralegi's eyes shined in glee. The guard stood rigid, unable to respond, unsure of what his king wanted.

_That might have been my first kiss!_ Murata thought, horrified. _Damn you, Shibuya!_

The king daintily picked up the chains linking his neck to the ground and yanked. Hard. The choke chain immediately tightened up, gagging, and at the same time causing excruciating pain. Murata tried to gasp for breaths, but the chain had cut off the circulation of air. He tried to claw at the collar, but his arms, with its limited freedom, could not reach anywhere near his throat.

Saralegi released Murata in such an abrupt motion that the sage's head fell to the ground, and would have hit the hard floor had Saralegi not put out is foot to cushion it. He then kicked the leg up to return Murata to his original sitting position.

Murata gasped for air so frantically that he looked as though he had drowned and had just been rescued. He coughed as though in a fit. Saralegi waited until his prisoner stopped his spasms while he admired the boy's body.

Murata had a very lean, smooth body. Though not extensively muscular as a sports-man like Yuuri's was, he had no extra fat, and had on the slightest bulges of muscle. It would have been unexpected of such a nerdy boy to have such a perfect body. His skin was smooth, as though it were of a girl's. He could very easily have been mistaken for one had he a few curves.

"Beautiful," Saralegi smiled as he gently traced his long fingers down his side. Murata shivered from the touch.

He put out his hand to the guard who fumbled around in the "box of treasures" to hand him a whip. It was very well made, with a very elastic, long, and polished branch, complete with a decorated handle. It was not at all like the crude whip that the guard had used earlier.


End file.
